


A Tearful Reunion

by TheClassics4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina calls Rumpelstiltskin, telling him she has a bargaining chip to make a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tearful Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea last year, before the Rumbelle reunion, but I didn't get around to writing it until much later.

Rumpelstiltskin’s phone never rang. In all 28 years he’d been in Storybrook, he’d never heard his phone’s ring. Had anyone ever needed him, they reached him at his shop. He wasn’t even sure he had a phone number; if he did, he certainly didn’t know what it was.

It startled him when, at eleven o’clock that night, it suddenly burst out a shrill, repetitive chiming.

For a moment, he was unsure what was making the sound, but when he realized it was the phone, he slowly picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“Rumple,” the mayor’s voice sounded artificial through the small speaker, but he instantly recognized it.

“You’re majesty, what can I help you with tonight?”

“I need to make a deal. In regards to Sheriff Swan.”

“Dearie,” he shifted his weight as he stood in front of the small table, looking for a chair close enough for the cord to allow. There was none. “We have already discussed this. You have nothing I want.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said smugly.

“Oh, I am fairly certain—”

“Rumple, meet me at the toll bridge in two hours. I have someone you might be pleased to see. If you’re not, I won’t bother you again. If you are…we can set up a meeting to discuss an arrangement.” With that, her voice was gone and a loud, mechanic beeping sounded in his ears.

Someone? Someone he would be pleased to meet?

Certainly she couldn’t mean Bae? She knew nothing of him. No one knew anything of him, but his gut told him in two hours he would come face to face with his son.

How had she gotten him here? Perhaps it was the same as how he’d gotten Henry. But even that, she was ignorant. Regina had no knowledge of this world and yet…

Had Bae found her? Found Storybrook? It was not inconceivable. The puppet had done the same. Bae was a smart boy and he could have found a way here.

Theories about his son circled in his head, getting more and more outrageous as time passed. Perhaps Bae and the puppet had met at some point or another, perhaps Bae had been here the entire 28 years watching since the curse had been enacted.

No. He had to stop. It would drive him mad if he thought on it much longer.

The clock read midnight and he knew he would not last another hour. He stopped at the shop, trying to find anything to give his boy as some kind of peace offering. He had nothing. Everything Rumpelstiltskin had of his son was for the child he had been. Bae would no doubt be a grown man in this world.

Bae’s ball sat on the counter and Rumplestiltskin ran his hand over it. His heart was still thumping anxiously in his chest. He’d waited for this moment for hundreds of years.

One false reunion didn’t quell the tightness in his chest. The puppet’s reaction could not be how his son would react. Bae wouldn’t forgive so easily. He took his son’s shoes he’d worn as an infant and slipped one into his pocket. It wasn’t much, but it would be a comfort when Bae rejected him.

It was still more than a half hour early, but he could wait for Regina. Waiting at the toll bridge would be better than staying here.

No one was about town. Everyone in Storybrook went to bed before ten and rose before seven. No one would be awake for this encounter.

If Regina had any decency at all, she would leave him and his son alone. He knew she did not. She would be there for every minute of their reunion and he would need to keep his emotions in check. He wouldn’t be able to beg for forgiveness with her there. Would he even be able to hug his son without her seeing weakness in him?

He arrived at the toll bridge and shut the car’s engine off. Restlessly, he tapped the steering wheel, adjusted the seat, rolled down the window. He couldn’t seem to sit still and as the minutes ticked closer to one o’clock, he had to exit the car. He stood beside the front headlights and waited, watching the road for Regina to appear.

He waited as long as he could before checking his watch. He thought it was just his own impatience, but the clock read 1:15. Gritting his teeth, he walked away from the car. Regina was toying with him. There was no telling when she would arrive.

The air was silent, save for the running of the river below him. He limped over to the rail to watch the water, hoping it would distract him.

But his eyes didn’t go to the water. A small, lifeless figure was lying face down on the rocks, halfway in the water.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and, as quickly as his leg would allow, he made his way down to the water. He stumbled over the stones and lost his balance a few times, but he came to the girl—he could tell it was a girl by the long mess of brown hair—and took her by the arm. She was small, but her deadweight was more than he could pull. His leg slipped out from under him and he landed on the hard gravel beneath him.

Half crawling, half scooting to her, he gripped her under the arm and managed to pull her entirely from the water. The exertion left him feeling drained and he sat there with her still lying face down in his lap.

Her clothing gave him pause. She was clad in a hospital gown, one of her slippers missing in the river. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, but most of it had fallen out in a ratted mess over her shoulders. He’d seen no search party looking for her and it was possible the hospital staff was still unaware she was gone.

He slipped two fingers underneath her hair and felt for her heartbeat. The artery under his fingers pulsed strongly and he gave a relieved sigh.

“Dear,” he called quietly and rolled her over, “Dear, are—”

Her hair fell away from her face and his heart sputtered.

This girl in his arms, this girl. His girl. His perfectly beautiful girl.

Her heart had been pulsing under his fingers, her wet skin dripped onto his suit pants. He was holding Belle in his arms.

Before he could stop himself, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to her. They were cold, but not deathly so.

“Belle,” he said once he’d pulled back. He pushed her hair back from her face and pressed his lips to hers again, hoping it might wake her. But she was under no curse, sleeping pills maybe, not a curse.

He curled himself around her, awkwardly bending as she lay in his lap. “Belle.” He heard himself sobbing into her, his hands running along her back and arms. The scent from her hair filled his lungs—a muted, earthy musk that smothered her natural sweetness. The longer he breathed against her, the more he could imagine her sweet smell becoming stronger.

She was so tiny, so cold, but he couldn’t do anything but cling to her. He knew his grip must be too tight and it physically hurt to pry his fingers from her. He leaned up just enough to shrug off his suit jacket and blanket her with it.

Still, she didn’t stir and he chanced another grip under her arms to tug her further into his lap. Jagged stones were digging into him and when he moved, he winced. By morning, his legs and his backside would be bruised, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It took hours for Belle to finally show signs of consciousness. Rumpelstiltskin spent those hours just staring at her, still in too much shock to form any kind of coherent thought. She was still as beautiful as ever. Even with dirt on her face and her hair in a tangled mess, he’d never seen anyone who could compare to her.

He watched her stomach rise and fall as she breathed. She breathed. Belle was breathing. Thousands of times he had pictured her, broken and bloody at the bottom of a tower, her body being discovered by clerics who were indifferent and carried her off to be buried in a shallow grave.

But she was neither broken nor bloody. Placing a hand on her stomach, he closed his eyes as he felt her breathing. The feeling of it choked him and he leaned down again to press his lips to her, barely keeping his tears at bay.

When she squirmed sleepily in his lap, he tensed. Excitement and relief gave way to nerves and he worried about who he would meet when she opened her eyes. His hand trembled as he rubbed her back through his jacket, trying to ease her awake.

“Belle?”

Her eyes opened slowly at his voice and she blinked at him.

“What happened?”

Her voice was the same, flooding him with memories and images. He cleared his throat and his fingers tightened on her, “You’re safe.”

When she sat up, she looked a bit disoriented and she looked around with uncertain eyes. His jacket fell from her shoulders and he caught it, placing it back over her. She watched him and when his hands didn’t leave her shoulders, she looked at him.

There wasn’t recognition in her eyes and she didn’t have to speak for him to know she didn’t remember him.

“Do I know you?” She reached out and touched his cheek, squinting her eyes.

“No,” he said shaking her head. He covered her hand with his. “But you will.”


End file.
